Put Your Faults to Sleep
by bulelo
Summary: Reverse roles AU: One child was an orphan, a lover, a thief. The other was a childhood friend, a clown, a magician. They both wanted things they could not have. And this is where I come in. HIATUS


**A/N: **Long story short, this was my opportunity to write a Valentine's Day tribute, delve into another love story, and practice reverse roles. Dedicated to all of my readers and to my best friend April, who has been waiting on me to get my act together. This tale begins with tragedy and ends with a happy ending, with hints of pairings. I was inspired by several things ranging from Disney movies to a variety of music, one song of which I must recommend if you are going to spend some time absorbing my tale. :) "Sun" - Jonsi (OST from _We Bought a Zoo_). Brief but beautiful.

No warnings/notes this time, I would like you to enjoy this story in your own way. Appreciation for the cover picture, drawn by deviantart artist _ShyyBoyy_.

**Disclaimer: ** _I don't own _Maplestory or the cover, ____but I do own my ideas, etc. __

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><p><em><strong>First Fragment<strong>_

I have always been caught up in the glow of white teeth, the modesty behind yellow molars, and chipped calcium. There was this natural inclination, perhaps, to the act of smiling. No amount of grisliness could erase a genuine laugh, a raw chuckle that rumbled through the chest and vibrated across a chapped cupid's bow, underneath the nose.

But as wars dirtied the world and sin became an unbearable quest for power, I grew more aware of the increasing population of blackbirds rather than the prayers of families sending off their brave explorers and little warriors. No more smiles, no more warmth.

And it was only ever me painting walls red, bleaching clothes blue, setting down brown picture frames, and convincing myself that human beings were beautifully anguished souls. I should have known better, of course, excuse my mind for being so naïve. Though, I suppose it would be awfully inconsiderate of me to begin this tale so vaguely, now wouldn't it?

Let me begin with this cruel act against you, my guest, a slow pang drawn through the seams of your heart, an image of sorry stones and broken bones. As estimated, I am here to tell you a story, one full of trial and error, of pale blue lips and unsalted tears, of all the loud clichés about lovers practically sewn into your information network.

And in saying this, I must rephrase my ambiguity. First, the tale I am about to commit my time and effort to is not complete.

Second, it is, without a doubt, a rather quiet article, so you must listen carefully and refrain from all unusual noises. The exit is over there, if you'd like.

Third, I have completely lied to you, for it is in my nature to twist and passive aggressively manipulate.

This is not a story, but a _life_, and a life is never over. It returns to a solace, a habitat, a recluse, to the earth itself, and continues to thrive under the sun.

You will hear several sounds, some louder than the trumpets of African elephants and others as shy as an aardwolf sleeping in its burrow. Bashful, violent, comforting, sultry, charming, nauseous, and above all, _happy_, something I have yet to grow accustomed to.

You are but another person who deserves an apology, for all people experience me in time. The very moment one comes into this world is possibly out of a portion of my whole, and even now, upon your skin, there are flakes.

I am an unfulfilled existence who has seen far too much. I leech off of both the warm and the cold, thrilling leaps of faith and dank recesses. I create and destroy, aid and kill, nurture and abandon. I am nothing without encompassing everything.

Flimsy, yet sturdy. Fleeting, yet lasting. Fast, yet paced.

And here is where I tell you how I could never leave those goddamn humans alone.

—-

We start with a single voice, calling out to a young man down the hallway, ashamed of his shadow.

Before the fateful encounter, we take the sky view of a castle born of crunchy beige adobe, ashen steel, and cotton clouds. They named the land Harmony, under the premises of King Aurora and his council. There was the sleepy ocean nigh and a city that never slept above, a prosperous kingdom with rich citizens and plenty of color.

And with a sudden change of weather, the snow decided to tuck itself not only around the cobblestone streets, but inside the queen's heart. Winter illness, the doctors whispered, and like a broken record that day, the king grasped and released the cold hands of a woman he would've given anything to thaw. My presence was useless then, a fickle burden dripping down the withered shoulders of a tragic ruler.

Princess Lucia was sixteen when Queen Iris passed away. Not a moment went by without the tangible taste of regret. Night after night she found the tears of loved ones swell and disappear down an invisible river running from under the cracks of bedroom doors. Night after night, she was inclined to believe that nobody would ever come to know of the dreamless, monochrome world of a princess.

Lucia was seventeen when she stumbled upon a bleeding thief limping down the hall and befriended the frigid boy. She cleaned his wounds and managed to bandage up the pieces of a shattered soul, whatever he let her touch. It was here that I too learned of his world, a discolored, mottled, odorless palace in the back of his skull storing jars of diamonds and words never said aloud.

_I'm singing a sad tune_.

—-

It was an incongruous, mangled landscape in the wrinkled palm of nowhere. Auburn, like the blotchy roofs of the neighborhood; acrid silver, like the color of his unkempt hair after months of neglect; caramel, like a sweet mixture of broken dreams.

He didn't feel any particular attachment to his hometown. In fact, there was no anguish, no sudden movement to return to home for a small, forgotten trinket.

What _could_ you possibly miss, when there was no house to begin with?

Escaping from a life of foraging through trash—both literal and human—and sleeping amongst rubble and rats was certainly far from awful. But here and there, he'd remember that leaden scape, darker than the nights of Magatia and as humid as Leafre. The youth recalled the small bits of strength he had packed into his veins, in hopes of one day winning against his circumstances. The day had come sooner than he'd anticipated, but the opportunity was pathetic.

_Sandy locks…and irises filled with the deepest aqua sea water. Rivulets of an ivory gown… and waves of tiny sienna gems adorning pale flesh. Fuchsia lips and golden eyelashes casting little shadows on high cheekbones…_

All of these details compiled into a scrapbook in his mind grew into a monochrome memory, a wretched gray ghost giggling at his flaws from under creaking floorboards. He paced across the same wooden ground listlessly and slowly adapted to the rhythms of insomnia and remorse.

Once, he had climbed onto a palace balcony for a girl who spoke another language, a heartfelt story nobody else could hear. He learned to listen to winter wisps and summer waves rather than tales of an autumn romance and ethereal flowers in spring.

_Passion_. The heat coursed through every fiber of my being. That was what it was called.

The thief stared, always following the gentle click of her gamboge sandals, the glitter of her peachy nails and the faint fuzz upon her knuckles. She wasn't the prettiest woman in the room, but the more he observed her, the more he had memorized her regal gait. She drew him in with a beauty one could only grow to enjoy with time.

And with time, he especially adored the toothy grin and nasal laugh, just like me.

However, within his interest was the familiar, pearly tinge of a miserable lust and vigor. He pined for a fragile sternum and the smoothness of hands beyond the lace of white gloves. _Dangerous, dangerous_, I would whisper to him in his sleep, but that never stopped him before. The smell of fear and doubt lingered with the maturity of dark, wine-dipped chocolates and the sweet exhilaration of a ride on the Ferris wheel.

In his heart was a bloated, vividly violent emotion that enticed his blood with an insatiable yearning, an unquenchable _thirst_. She had warmth and luxury, while he despised his more or less humble roots. The young man envied his love interest and I burned.

Yet, for the exact same reason, Princess Lucia was irreplaceable. She was his savior, that night in the hallway, where the inkiness of midnight consumed the crimson on his clothes.

Now that he thought about it, he'd never wished to harm or scare her at all. But he couldn't end his vain profession, a line of art called thievery. Nobles alike were walking money bags with which he honed his pickpocketing skills. Never was there an internal conflict with morality and the shimmer of rubies, sapphires, and emeralds.

Until Lucia sacrificed more than her kingdom, that is.

The frenzy started with the sight of a corpse wrapped in baby blue cloth and a weeping King Aurora. Then there was the thief's empty chest ruled by terror rather than fury, and suddenly, a frame racked with mindless crying. There was the angry denial, thrown furniture, and isolation. _Screaming, screaming, __**screaming**__._ There was the hoarse throat, silver drawings, bleeding from the wrists, and calm acceptance patting down the raging fire within me.

In the wake of his first love's death, Luminous learned to welcome a heavy heart and a guiltless throne upon which he sat, alone and afraid.

What had replaced the grotesque, longing feelings and friendly affections were a gut-wrenching regret and the company of gold, sleep, alcohol, and _me_. The blue roses by her grave weren't quite enough to keep the nightmares away, as if he had any dreams at all, but certainly giving away diamonds provided him transference.

You never really retire from larceny and love. Old habits die hard, as well as the memory of devotion, two lifestyles of their own.

This is why I have recorded these moments, and why the next will need you to keep track.

I will now give you a reason to forgive me, dear guest.

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><p><strong>Leave a comment or so just to tell me how I'm doing! This is going to be an about three chapter story. Can you guess who the narrator is? (hint: heshe is not a person) Thank you for staying! **


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